hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-04 02:53 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-03-04 02:53 pm
Dirty Wrong RPS for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma
The first step is admitting you have a problem.
The second step is writing until the problem goes away.
Truthfully, I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. I just -- I didn’t – you know, I didn’t think it was going to be so soon. They only just announced the casting. I am so easy sometimes. Thank god this is short.lalejandra we’ll get back to the regular programming directly.
(LOTR) RPS
Dominic Monaghan/Ian Somerhalder in...
Too Bad About Your Girl
Dom’s first thought when he saw Ian Somerhalder at their initial reading wasn’t anything he could repeat in polite company. Not that Dom kept much polite company or was adverse to saying exactly what was on his mind at any given second in the day, but he had a job now. A real Hollywood job, and he couldn’t muck the whole business up by announcing at the top of his lungs that he wanted to shag his new co-star on the catering table.
No.
Dom had already been in this place before, and he didn’t think it would go over particularly well here, all things considered. It might’ve gotten a few laughs here and there, perhaps a raised eyebrow from one of the production assistants, but Dom didn’t know J.J.’s sense of humour yet, and he certainly didn’t know how Ian or Jorge or Evangeline would react to it. Him. It.
Right.
Americans were hard to understand sometimes, and their senses of humour were tremendously dodgy. Most didn’t even get Blackadder or Father Ted, which to Dom was tantamount to sacrilege. But that wasn’t really the point.
The point was that this bloke, this Ian, sat down right next to Dom for the reading, and all Dom could think were things like ‘shag’ and ‘now’ and ‘fucking hell.’
Ian smelled good, and his hair was everywhere, and he was wearing this shirt from the Bowie World Tour that Dom had never even seen for sale before. He was distracting to say the least, and every time someone tripped over a word or missed their cue, Ian would glance at Dom or Dom would glance at Ian and they would share this smile. Ian had those impossibly white, California-ized teeth, and his smile made Dom think about meat and carnivores and blowjobs on sandy beaches. It wasn’t necessarily the most coherent thought he’d ever had to start with, and then Dom went and missed one of his cues, and he would swear on the grave of his dead goldfish that Ian kicked him under the table.
It wasn’t even a hard kick. Dom didn’t even really feel the shoe. It was more like pressure from a bare foot. Except there was no way on any hobbit’s green earth that Ian was playing footsie with Dom, so Dom was just going to go on with his lines as though he hadn’t felt anything at all.
The hand that brushed against Dom’s thigh was an entirely different surprise altogether, and Dom had to learn how Ian managed to look so innocent and attentive when he was actually playing Tetris on his mobile phone.
*
They all went for drinks after the reading, because that’s what people did after a long day of sitting about in cool rooms, reading scripts and being stuffed with catered food. At least that’s what Ian had said once they were released from captivity and allowed to leave the lot.
Dom’d never done a television pilot before, since Hetty had already been in progress once he’d joined on. It wasn’t as though Dom had anyone waiting at home anymore, so he’d been more than up for it.
They’d made quite a little parade – Dom following Jorge following Evangeline following Ian - as they left the Valley and headed into L.A. proper. And as they passed the enormous billboard for One Tree Hill off Barham, Dom’s heart began to beat a little bit faster in time with the music in his car. There was every possibility that that would be his face up there this time next year, and that made him feel good. Better. Fucking excellent, in fact.
Maybe he would finally get to live his dream.
Dom hadn’t felt so optimistic about anything in a really long time, and he fumbled in his pockets for his mobile so he could ring Billy and tell him all about it.
They’d had a few rough spots recently, but if anyone would be happy for him, surely it would be his Bills. That’s what friends were for, right?
*
Evangeline had a tattoo on her lower back that she called a bumper sticker, and Jorge declared that Corona was a disservice to the entire beer industry. Ian had a girlfriend, who he didn’t really talk about too much, and they all had loved Lord of the Rings to distraction. Jorge even admitted to wanting Dom’s autograph for his little sister as they lined up at the bar of The Burgundy Room.
Dom signed his full name along Jorge’s right arm with a cheap blue pen; and they did various types of citrus shots until Evangeline’s arms began to collapse on the sticky counter, and she started to babble about her Saturday morning pilates class.
Not to put too fine a point on it -- they drank themselves shitless until it was clear that they were going to get along rather well. And it was only after Dom had packed Evangeline and Jorge off in a taxi to Santa Monica, that he realised how much fun he’d had and how long it had been since he’d felt like he belonged. The instant camaraderie wasn’t something he could find with everyone, and as Ian settled the bill, Dom could tell that this show was going to be a good thing.
He could feel it in his bones.
And when Dom found himself walking Ian to his car he considered it a chance to tap down on his hormones, which had been duly sedated as the night wore on. Vodka could do that sometimes. Most of the time, though, alcohol just made Dom horny, and he suspected that Ian’s phantom girlfriend was doing more to sedate Dom’s hormones than Grey Goose and Absolut combined.
Ian had parked around the corner off of Selma, and as they passed the Spotlight, Dom grinned at the catcalls they garnered. That was clearly all Ian – not that he could blame anyone. He was just about to say something rather saucy himself – surely the alcohol could excuse all his sins – when he found himself pushed up against cold concrete with a crack to the back of his head.
Dom's brain went scrambling to catch up with his nerves when he felt hot, wet lips pressing against his own. Ian wasn’t that much taller that Dom, but Dom yanked on his collar anyway and licked his way into Ian’s mouth as though Ian were covered in chocolate or some other heavily desired substance. Ian’s teeth were sharp on Dom’s bottom lip, and Dom panted heavily when Ian pulled away.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Ian said as he straightened his shirt and mussed tangled hair.
Dom smirked. “I thought it was just me.”
The noise Ian made said it all. “I thought it would be for the best if we got it out the way now, since on-set stuff never works out.”
Dom immediately thought of Elijah, but for once kept his gob shut. He didn’t necessarily agree, but that was neither here nor there in the scheme of things. Instead he cocked his head to the side and motioned to Ian’s car. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine.” Ian jangled his keys.
“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the star of the show.”
Ian laughed. “Then maybe I better drive you home.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed as Dom licked his lips, but he let it go. On a certain level Ian was right, and even if Dom didn’t agree this was still too important for him to start thinking with his dick. Yet.
“I’m right as rain,” Dom said.
Ian laughed again. “Whatever you say, Dom.”
And as Ian drove off, Dom considered his lot in life at the moment: good job, nice flat, great mates and nice co-workers. Things were certainly beginning to look up in his life -- it was just a shame about Ian’s girl.
-end-
Improv: sand, citrus, Saturday, collapse, dream, surprise.
The second step is writing until the problem goes away.
Truthfully, I knew this was going to happen. I knew it. I just -- I didn’t – you know, I didn’t think it was going to be so soon. They only just announced the casting. I am so easy sometimes. Thank god this is short.
lalejandra we’ll get back to the regular programming directly.(LOTR) RPS
Dominic Monaghan/Ian Somerhalder in...
Dom’s first thought when he saw Ian Somerhalder at their initial reading wasn’t anything he could repeat in polite company. Not that Dom kept much polite company or was adverse to saying exactly what was on his mind at any given second in the day, but he had a job now. A real Hollywood job, and he couldn’t muck the whole business up by announcing at the top of his lungs that he wanted to shag his new co-star on the catering table.
No.
Dom had already been in this place before, and he didn’t think it would go over particularly well here, all things considered. It might’ve gotten a few laughs here and there, perhaps a raised eyebrow from one of the production assistants, but Dom didn’t know J.J.’s sense of humour yet, and he certainly didn’t know how Ian or Jorge or Evangeline would react to it. Him. It.
Right.
Americans were hard to understand sometimes, and their senses of humour were tremendously dodgy. Most didn’t even get Blackadder or Father Ted, which to Dom was tantamount to sacrilege. But that wasn’t really the point.
The point was that this bloke, this Ian, sat down right next to Dom for the reading, and all Dom could think were things like ‘shag’ and ‘now’ and ‘fucking hell.’
Ian smelled good, and his hair was everywhere, and he was wearing this shirt from the Bowie World Tour that Dom had never even seen for sale before. He was distracting to say the least, and every time someone tripped over a word or missed their cue, Ian would glance at Dom or Dom would glance at Ian and they would share this smile. Ian had those impossibly white, California-ized teeth, and his smile made Dom think about meat and carnivores and blowjobs on sandy beaches. It wasn’t necessarily the most coherent thought he’d ever had to start with, and then Dom went and missed one of his cues, and he would swear on the grave of his dead goldfish that Ian kicked him under the table.
It wasn’t even a hard kick. Dom didn’t even really feel the shoe. It was more like pressure from a bare foot. Except there was no way on any hobbit’s green earth that Ian was playing footsie with Dom, so Dom was just going to go on with his lines as though he hadn’t felt anything at all.
The hand that brushed against Dom’s thigh was an entirely different surprise altogether, and Dom had to learn how Ian managed to look so innocent and attentive when he was actually playing Tetris on his mobile phone.
They all went for drinks after the reading, because that’s what people did after a long day of sitting about in cool rooms, reading scripts and being stuffed with catered food. At least that’s what Ian had said once they were released from captivity and allowed to leave the lot.
Dom’d never done a television pilot before, since Hetty had already been in progress once he’d joined on. It wasn’t as though Dom had anyone waiting at home anymore, so he’d been more than up for it.
They’d made quite a little parade – Dom following Jorge following Evangeline following Ian - as they left the Valley and headed into L.A. proper. And as they passed the enormous billboard for One Tree Hill off Barham, Dom’s heart began to beat a little bit faster in time with the music in his car. There was every possibility that that would be his face up there this time next year, and that made him feel good. Better. Fucking excellent, in fact.
Maybe he would finally get to live his dream.
Dom hadn’t felt so optimistic about anything in a really long time, and he fumbled in his pockets for his mobile so he could ring Billy and tell him all about it.
They’d had a few rough spots recently, but if anyone would be happy for him, surely it would be his Bills. That’s what friends were for, right?
Evangeline had a tattoo on her lower back that she called a bumper sticker, and Jorge declared that Corona was a disservice to the entire beer industry. Ian had a girlfriend, who he didn’t really talk about too much, and they all had loved Lord of the Rings to distraction. Jorge even admitted to wanting Dom’s autograph for his little sister as they lined up at the bar of The Burgundy Room.
Dom signed his full name along Jorge’s right arm with a cheap blue pen; and they did various types of citrus shots until Evangeline’s arms began to collapse on the sticky counter, and she started to babble about her Saturday morning pilates class.
Not to put too fine a point on it -- they drank themselves shitless until it was clear that they were going to get along rather well. And it was only after Dom had packed Evangeline and Jorge off in a taxi to Santa Monica, that he realised how much fun he’d had and how long it had been since he’d felt like he belonged. The instant camaraderie wasn’t something he could find with everyone, and as Ian settled the bill, Dom could tell that this show was going to be a good thing.
He could feel it in his bones.
And when Dom found himself walking Ian to his car he considered it a chance to tap down on his hormones, which had been duly sedated as the night wore on. Vodka could do that sometimes. Most of the time, though, alcohol just made Dom horny, and he suspected that Ian’s phantom girlfriend was doing more to sedate Dom’s hormones than Grey Goose and Absolut combined.
Ian had parked around the corner off of Selma, and as they passed the Spotlight, Dom grinned at the catcalls they garnered. That was clearly all Ian – not that he could blame anyone. He was just about to say something rather saucy himself – surely the alcohol could excuse all his sins – when he found himself pushed up against cold concrete with a crack to the back of his head.
Dom's brain went scrambling to catch up with his nerves when he felt hot, wet lips pressing against his own. Ian wasn’t that much taller that Dom, but Dom yanked on his collar anyway and licked his way into Ian’s mouth as though Ian were covered in chocolate or some other heavily desired substance. Ian’s teeth were sharp on Dom’s bottom lip, and Dom panted heavily when Ian pulled away.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” Ian said as he straightened his shirt and mussed tangled hair.
Dom smirked. “I thought it was just me.”
The noise Ian made said it all. “I thought it would be for the best if we got it out the way now, since on-set stuff never works out.”
Dom immediately thought of Elijah, but for once kept his gob shut. He didn’t necessarily agree, but that was neither here nor there in the scheme of things. Instead he cocked his head to the side and motioned to Ian’s car. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I’ll be fine.” Ian jangled his keys.
“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the star of the show.”
Ian laughed. “Then maybe I better drive you home.”
Ian’s eyes narrowed as Dom licked his lips, but he let it go. On a certain level Ian was right, and even if Dom didn’t agree this was still too important for him to start thinking with his dick. Yet.
“I’m right as rain,” Dom said.
Ian laughed again. “Whatever you say, Dom.”
And as Ian drove off, Dom considered his lot in life at the moment: good job, nice flat, great mates and nice co-workers. Things were certainly beginning to look up in his life -- it was just a shame about Ian’s girl.
-end-
Improv: sand, citrus, Saturday, collapse, dream, surprise.
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